


A Novel Solution

by Azar



Category: Quantum Leap, The Sentinel
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-30
Updated: 2011-07-30
Packaged: 2017-10-21 23:34:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/231114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azar/pseuds/Azar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam Beckett Leaps into Blair during the events of "The Sentinel by Blair Sandburg." His mission, to find a better solution to the problem of the dissertation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my three wonderful and patient beta-readers, Kimberly, Connie, and Cynthia. And to Becky's wonderful episode transcripts, from which chunks of dialogue were lifted.

**Project Quantum Leap  
June 8, 2000**

White...cold...sterile...

These words gradually filtered into his disoriented brain as he struggled to absorb his surroundings.

He was in a large room, almost totally barren of furniture except for a narrow metal table or cot--he wasn't quite sure which it was. The walls were a sleek, gleaming metal, impervious to any sound or smell that might try to penetrate them. The entire ceiling glowed with light from an indeterminable source. Bright light. Cool light. Soft light, minimizing the shadows around him. There was only one door into the room, a metal panel that seemed to lack both hinges and doorknob, making escape impossible.

 _Escape..._

As awareness slowly increased, he studied himself. He was barefoot, clad only in a skin-tight white jumpsuit that covered him from ankles to wrists to chin. The fabric seemed to glow in the steady, unflickering light from above.

White...cold...sterile...

The silent mantra in his brain repeated again. Like a hospital. Or a prison. Or a lab.

 _Oh God..._

Even as his comprehension of his present circumstances increased, with it came the terrifying awareness that his past was riddled with holes. He couldn't remember his mother's name, or her face. He couldn't remember where he lived, or what he had gotten for his last birthday. He couldn't even remember when his birthday was. Most terrifying of all, he couldn't remember how he'd come to this place or where he'd been before he woke up here.

One thing he did remember though. He remembered that there was a man he was supposed to protect and support.

And he knew, if he was in a prison or a lab, that he had failed that man. His brother. His friend. His partner.

"Oh, God, Jim," he murmured. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

* * *

Admiral Al Calavicci took a deep breath as he stood outside the door of the Waiting Room. It was something he did every time, a sort of routine that was the only thing besides his military training that kept him from crying every time the door slid open to reveal a face other than Sam Beckett's.

 _Well, at least I see them now,_ he admitted silently. _Those first Leaps...the false hope almost killed me._

Sufficiently in control to face whatever--or whoever--awaited him, he called out, "Okay, Gooshie."

The door opened to reveal the frightened face of a long-haired, blue-eyed young man slightly shorter than the Admiral himself. His countenance was as pale as a wraith and his eyes darted over the gleaming white dress uniform with increasing nervousness.

Steeling himself again, Al stepped through the door.

Almost immediately, the Visitor changed. He launched himself at the older man, wild not with fury but with grief and fear.

"Where is he?" he demanded in a hurt, angry voice, even as the two MPs pulled him away from the startled Admiral. "What have you done to him? Oh, God..."

"Hey, careful!" Al barked at the two bulldogs, alarmed by their rough grip on the kid. Nightmarish images of Leon Stiles flashed through his mind. "What have I told you about jeopardizing this Project?"

His words only seemed to make the young man more agitated. The Visitor's eyes flared like the blue aura of a Leap. "Damn you!" he swore vehemently. "Damn you all to hell!"

* * *

 **Cascade, Washington  
May 24, 1999**

"...only wish you had given us a chance to read it first."

Sam Beckett blinked in disorientation at the woman across from him, behind a large desk in an imposing office, then at the gray-haired man standing beside her, who had just spoken. The moment when he first Leaped in was always a headache, but he hated being caught halfway through a sentence. Before he could sputter out a reply, though, the woman pressed one finger on the button of an intercom.

"Please send them in," she instructed.

Another female voice caught his ears as the door opened. "Sid, you can't go through with this."

"We're on a roll, Naomi," was the only reply from the man with her.

Still bewildered, Sam turned to see who was speaking. A man, an unhappy-looking woman, and a camera crew poured into the office.

"Sid, I don't want you to until..."

The Leaper finally found his voice. "Wh-what's going on?"

The woman called Naomi looked at him, her expression hovering between pride, embarrassment and shame. "Uh, uh...Blair, this is Sid Graham."

 _Great, at least I know my name now._

"He flew all the way from New York. I wanted him to meet with you alone first but he..."

Sid interrupted. "Blair, I'm determined to publish your book."

 _My book?_

"Berkshire Publishing is offering you one million dollars and I've already had inquiries from several studios for the movie rights."

Sam stammered in surprise. "A movie, that's...incredible."

Sid beamed. "There's more, but I agreed to let the TV crew handle that."

A reporter pushed forward, shoving a microphone under his nose. "We've been informed that due to the efforts of your mother, Naomi, the Nobel Prize committee is considering your research for its science award."

"Another one?" the physicist murmured softly. And since when did the Nobel committee give out a _science_ award? Last he knew, they were still handing out several awards for the sciences, in various fields. Physics being only one.

"What was that, Mr. Sandburg?"

Right. Sam Beckett had a Nobel Prize. Blair Sandburg probably didn't. He glanced at the camera crew. At least...he didn't yet.

"Nobel, that's, uh, that's unbelievable." He looked over at Naomi, who the reporter had called his mother. "Excuse me. Uh...Mom?"

Drawing her into a corner of the office, he was suddenly seized with the realization that he had no idea what to say to her. He couldn't just flat out ask what the hell was going on, because Blair probably knew.

"Mom..." he started lamely.

Apparently it was enough, because Naomi began to babble an apology. "Oh, Blair, I'm sorry, honey. I-I did this before you told me not to do anything and then all I did was...I talked to Lars when he called."

Sam blinked. "Lars? Who's Lars?"

"Lars. Lars. He's the masseur for one of the members of the committee. I asked him only to slip..."

The Leaper's stomach turned cold. From Naomi's behavior, he got a sudden, strong impression that as positive as the media attention seemed to be, it was seriously unwanted. "Stop, please. I--"

Naturally, the reporter chose that moment to butt in again. "Would you say you're overwhelmed?" he asked.

Sam shook his head at the understatement, shrinking away from the cameras. "I...I have nothing to say." He couldn't very well give an interview when he had no idea what he was being interviewed about.

"But..." the reporter began.

Naomi looked about ready to cry. "Blair, Blair, I...Oh, I'm sorry."

Beyond overwhelmed, six-time-Doctor Sam Beckett fled with Naomi Sandburg in pursuit. Amazingly, the camera crew didn't follow.

"Damn it, Al," the Leaper hissed as he tried to find an escape route among the maze of hallways outside the office he'd just left. "Where the hell are you?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Back at the Project  
2000**

"Do you want us to restrain him, sir?" one of the MPs asked.

Al shook his head impatiently. "No. No restraints, no sedatives unless absolutely necessary. You know the rules. Now, get out."

The two looked startled. "Sir?"

"Something wrong with your hearing, soldier? I said, get out!"

"But, sir, the subject--"

"The _Visitor_ will be fine, and I am perfectly capable of handling myself. Now, unless you want to find yourself facing a court-martial on charges of insubordination--"

Before he could even finish the threat, the two MPs had disappeared out the door. The man they had been holding made a sudden move towards the door, but Al stepped into his path just long enough for Ziggy to slide it shut. He placed a firm governing hand on the kid's shoulder.

"Don't mind them, Kid," the Admiral tried to reassure him in a joking tone. "You know Marines--'Muscles Are Required, Intelligence Not Essential.'"

In spite of his obvious determination not to, the young man cracked a weak smile.

The Observer returned it. "That's better. Now, why don't you have a seat so we can talk."

The smile disappeared and the Visitor's voice turned cold. "I have nothing to say to you."

 _Aw, hell. Sam, why do you always have to Leap into the stubborn ones?_ "That's too bad, Kid, because we can't get you out of here unless you talk to us."

"I'm not leaving without Jim," the younger man insisted obstinately.

 _So that's who "he" is. Wonder why he's so convinced we've got this other guy too?_ "This Jim--he a friend of yours?"

The Visitor just glared at him. "Very funny."

"I wasn't trying to be funny, Kid."

The young man winced. "Stop calling me that."

"Yeah, well, until you give me something else to call you, it'll have to do."

"After what happened, you're gonna try to convince me you don't know my name?"

Al sighed, beginning to get impatient. If he didn't get something out of the kid soon, he might not establish contact with Sam before he Leaped again. There was never any way to know how long they had. "Look, Kid, all I know about you is that you're male and about my height, you have brown hair and blue eyes, and you're firmly convinced we're holding someone named Jim as a prisoner somewhere in this facility."

The young man still looked skeptical.

"How about we make a deal?" the Admiral offered. "You answer my questions, I'll try to answer some of yours. Does that help?"

His companion remained dubious, but apparently his curiosity got the better of him because a question slipped out. "Where are we?"

"You're in New Mexico, but don't ask for the specifics, because it's classified."

"New Mexico!" the Visitor exclaimed in alarm. "Aw, Man, Naomi and Simon must be worried sick! How the hell did we get here?" Naomi--*that* was his mother's name, he remembered with a sudden surge of relief.

Al sent out a mental plea to Ziggy, hoping the computer was listening in on the conversation and might be able to cross-reference the names Jim, Naomi, and Simon. Just in case that was all they got out of the kid.

"Sorry, you owe me one answer before you get any more. What's your name, Kid?"

He could almost see the motor cranking in the younger man's head as he reviewed his options before finally giving in with a look of resignation. "Blair Sandburg."

 _Hallelujah! Ziggy, you damned well better be getting this!_ Grinning in relief, the Admiral stuck out a hand, which the Visitor accepted with some trepidation. "Good to meet you, Blair. I'm Al Calavicci."

"Admiral," was the curt acknowledgment of the uniform.

"Please, call me Al. I get enough of 'Admiral' from Ziggy and Gooshie and those two nozzles out there." He gestured towards the door.

Once again, Blair couldn't help but smile a little.

"Okay, Kid, your turn." At the younger man's look, he shrugged. "What can I say, it's a habit. When you get to be my age, everybody's a kid."

The smile came back again; this time it was a little less hesitant. "Okay, who are Gooshie and Ziggy?"

"Ziggy is the world's first computer with an ego and Gooshie is her head programmer."

Blair laughed and Al smirked at him. "What, you think I'm kidding?"

The young man shook his head. "Why'd you call it Ziggy?"

"Oh, no. Don't try to sneak a two-for-one past me," Al admonished.

"I'm not--you asked if I thought you were kidding, and I answered you."

 _Damn, the kid's sharp._ He laughed. "You got me there. But I didn't name her--a friend of mine did. And I have no idea where he got the name."

The younger man jumped as a petulant female voice suddenly came out of every corner of the room at once. "Admiral, dare I remind you that without your influence, I would have been graced with the much more sensible name of Alpha," it pouted.

"Considering what else you would have been cursed with, I'd think you'd be thanking your lucky stars," he retorted.

"You forget, Admiral, that I am not capable of believing in such quaint human concepts as 'luck.'"

"That's Ziggy?" Blair asked.

"That's Ziggy. And now you do owe me two."

Sandburg flushed at being caught by his own trick, but nodded.

"Why don't you tell me about your friend, Jim," Al suggested.

At the mention of the name, the kid shut down. He withdrew into himself with a shake of the head and another stubborn flare in his blue eyes.

 _Damn, he's protective of this guy. Wonder who he is? A nephew? A son, maybe?_

"Look, Kid, believe it or not, we're here to help you. But we can't do that unless you help us first."

"Yeah, right, you want to help us!" Blair exploded. "Help us help you, you mean. The paper was a fake, all right? I made it all up. So just let us go." He curled into a fetal position and buried his curly head in his knees.

"Blair," Al spoke quietly.

The young man's head popped up like a spring as if he wasn't used to being addressed by his given name.

"Blair, whatever you may believe, I promise you your friend Jim is not here. But either you or someone you care about is in trouble, or you wouldn't be here. I need your help to fix it."

"Prove it."

"I'd be happy to. But first I need you to tell me the date."


	3. Chapter 3

**Men's room  
Rainier University Administration Building**

Sam stared into the mirror, studying the face he'd borrowed for the duration of this Leap. Blair Sandburg was of indeterminate height--indeterminate because Sam was always able to look in his reflection's eyes regardless of height--with spiraling brown curls that fell just past his shoulders and bright, intelligent blue eyes. Those eyes seemed to dance with mischief, in spite of the physicist's own confusion that shone through. Sandburg's nose was similar to Al's and the length of his hair accentuated his high forehead.

"Sam!"

The Leaper pivoted around at the sound of the familiar voice to face the unreflected form of his best friend. "Al! Thank God!"

The hologram indicated their surroundings. "What are you doing hanging out in here, Sam? You usually only go to the head after I arrive, when you want a private place to talk."

Ignoring the snide remark, Sam pointed to the door. "I'm hiding," he stated emphatically. "From my mother."

"Your mother? Oh, you mean Blair's mother."

"Yes, Blair's mother. Naomi Sandburg. She's been following me around apologizing practically since the minute I Leaped in here."

"Huh. Wonder why?" the hologram's attention drifted curiously to the door.

Sam smiled wryly. "Near as I can figure, she got her son a chance at a Nobel Prize."

"A Nobel...no kidding? Hey, that's great!"

"If it's so great, why is she apologizing?" the Leaper retorted. "And why am I here?"

"What? Oh!" Al brought the handlink up before his eyes and started punching what seemed like a random pattern of cubes. "Sorry, Sam, Ziggy's still working on it. We had a helluva time getting the kid to even tell us his name. He's firmly convinced we're holding someone named Jim prisoner."

"Who's Jim?"

"That's what we've got Ziggy trying to figure out. Look, Sam, I can't stay long. I think I might be able to get the kid to talk if I can just 'prove' to him that we want to help him."

"Prove it to him?" the physicist sounded worried.

Al waved a dismissive hand. "I'll think of something." Just then, the handlink squealed insistently and the hologram lifted it again. "Ah ha! Apparently 'Jim' is a Detective James Ellison with the Cascade." The older man slapped the colorful device. "Police Department...that's weird, the way he was acting I coulda sworn he was talking about..." The Observer shook his head and refocused his attention on the handlink. "Ahhh, anyway, they've been working together for about three years, and roommates almost as long. Seems the kid's some sort of Consultant to the Major Crimes Department, although he seems to stick pretty exclusively with Ellison."

"I'm in Cascade?" Sam interrupted.

"Huh? Yeah, Cascade, Washington."

"What's the date?"

Al sighed before lifting his eyes to reply. "May 24, 1999."

The Leaper felt a sudden pang of homesickness. "But that's..."

"Only a year away. I know." His friend's sympathetic brown eyes locked onto him for a moment. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

Sam nodded, collapsing against the counter. "Yeah. It's just so close..." _...and still so far away._

"I know." Al sighed deeply. "Look, Sam, if Blair's a consultant for the Cascade PD...well, whatever you're here to do might have something to do with them--"

"So, I should probably go down to the precinct."

"Unless you've got a better idea."

* * *

 **Back at the Project**

"Where did you go?" Blair asked as the Waiting Room door slid open again to admit Al.

The Admiral shook his head. "Sorry. Not until you answer that question you still owe me."

Sandburg took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "All right."

"Why didn't you tell me your friend Jim was a cop?"

The younger man looked up, startled. "You honestly didn't know?"

The door closed and Al crossed to one of the plain white chairs in the room, his eyes never leaving the young man in the fermisuit. "No, we didn't. We can find out, even if you don't tell us anything, but I'd rather get it from you. Call it a matter of honor."

Blair shook his head, bewildered. "But if you didn't know...why am I here?"

"I'll tell you, if you can tell me why an anthropology grad student is protecting a cop who's a former Army Ranger."

"I'm not protecting him," Blair finally admitted in a soft voice. "It's too late for that. I'm just trying to minimize the damage I've already caused."

"Is this related to the paper you mentioned earlier?" Al guessed.

When his question was once again greeted with silence, he spoke again. "Ziggy, do you have access to any papers written by a Blair Sandburg?"

"Mr. Sandburg's Master's Thesis is registered with the Library of Congress, but I can find no other public documents with his authorship. However...there is an item in the Cascade Times which might be of interest."

The Admiral thought he heard the young man murmur "Oh no," before once again burying his head in his hands.

It took the older man only a moment to weigh his options. He stood. "Open the door."

"Admiral?" the computer queried.

"Open the door. I have a bargain to keep."

Obediently, the door whooshed open and the two MPs moved to block it.

"Oh, for Pete's sake...get out of my way!" he barked at them. When they quickly obeyed, Al looked at Blair. "Come on, Kid. I have something to show you."

The Visitor's eyes brightened with curiosity as he followed the Admiral out of the Waiting Room into the glowing white hallway. Another door slid open before them and the young anthropologist let out a gasp of surprise as he took in the awesome sight of the Control Room.

Above their heads, the globe that was Ziggy's heart seemed to flare in welcome. The pair emerging from the Waiting Room was greeted with curious stares from the pair of technicians stationed at the rainbow-colored console. The young man's eyes drifted up and his mouth fell open as he took in the room's high ceiling and gleaming metal walls.

Al turned to Blair. "Blair Sandburg, welcome to Project Quantum Leap."


	4. Chapter 4

**Control Room  
Project Quantum Leap**

Blair was either in heaven or hell, he hadn't decided which yet. Although the sight tugged on his scientist's heart, the incongruous blending of sterility and oddly-placed colors did nothing to assuage his fear that this was a facility designed to contain a Sentinel.

"Al, what the hell are you thinking?" a woman with long, wavy dark hair exploded as she approached them. "If the Committee hears about this--" Whatever she had been saying died on her full lips when she looked at Blair.

"Sam..." Her heart seemed to splinter in her eyes. Without finishing she suddenly turned on one heel and disappeared through a different door than the one they had entered by.

An older woman closed the distance between them, this one with straight brunette hair cut just past her chin. _God, she's beautiful,_ Blair thought in frank admiration.

"Al?" the woman asked them with a glance in Blair's direction. She sounded unhappy as well.

The Admiral sighed and buried his face in her hair. "Beth, honey, I swear I forgot."

 _And taken,_ the anthropologist amended his earlier thought with a silent sigh.

"Al, you know the rules," Beth reminded her husband gently.

He nodded. "Yeah, but I also know what I'm doing."

"And what's that?"

"Saving this Leap, I hope." He turned to a tall black woman who was watching them with a raised eyebrow. "Verbena? Can you keep an eye on things here for a moment?"

The tall black woman nodded. "I hope you've decided what you're going to tell him, Al."

"I'm going to tell him whatever he wants to know. I want him to know he can trust us."

She nodded.

"Good. Ziggy?"

Obligingly, the computer opened another door. Al gestured for Blair to go ahead of him. Still a little leery but too curious to refuse, the anthropologist did as directed.

"We'll be back in a few minutes. If you need me before then, have Ziggy page me in my office." With that, the Admiral and Beth followed the Visitor out of the room.

* * *

 **Major Crimes Bullpen  
Cascade PD**

Sam stepped off the elevator into the bullpen then let out his breath in a nervous stream. Almost immediately, he was spotted by a man in a suit who grinned in his direction.

"Hey, Sandburg," the man called in a teasing voice. "Who's playing you on the Sentinel TV show? I know, Adam Sandler."

An older man echoed the grin. "Listen, I hear Denzel is playing me."

 _"Sentinel TV show"?_ Sam thought frantically. _Al! I really wish you'd come back and clue me in here!_

The two men seemed to be having a good laugh at his expense. From a glance into the room, though, another man several desks away wasn't enjoying the joke any more than he was.

"Look, there isn't going to be a TV show, all right?" the Leaper told them, beginning to get annoyed.

"Just a Nobel prize," a third man contributed.

As if they all functioned with a single brain, most of the occupants of the room began bowing in an exaggerated, obsequious manner in his direction. Only the man he'd noticed before didn't participate in the display.

 _What do you want to bet that's Ellison?_

"We're not worthy," the group chanted. "We're not worthy. We're not worthy. We're not worthy."

"Guys, grow up," Sam admonished, before turning and leaving the room in disgust.

Showing up had accomplished one thing, though. Now that he had seen Jim Ellison, he had a very strong feeling that whatever he was here to do had something to do with him.

* * *

 **Office of Rear Admiral Albert Calavicci  
Back at the Project**

Blair turned to the Admiral with an expression of excitement that was startling in its familiarity. _God. What must it be like to see that expression on Sam's face again?_ Al thought with a pang. Once again, he found himself grateful he no longer saw a stranger's soul looking through his best friend's eyes.

"Man, this is wild," the younger man enthused. "You guys really travel in time?"

"Well, we all don't," the Observer confirmed with a smile. "But yeah, one of us does."

At that moment, a door slid open again and the Visitor's eyes widened appreciatively at the sight of Tina, who graced him with her most deceptively empty-headed smiles. Al suppressed a chuckle and leaned in towards Blair. "Sorry, Kid--she's engaged to Gooshie."

"Dr. Beckett, is that you?" the bubbly technician asked, practically bouncing into the office.

"Ah...no, my name's Blair Sandburg." The young man shook her hand with a dazzling smile. "Although you can call me disappointed if you really are engaged."

Tina beamed and Al and Beth snickered under their breath.

"Awwww," the redhead melted into a high-pitched giggle. "Do you look as cute as you talk?"

Blair blinked in surprise. "What?"

Al smiled. "You know that proof I promised you? Here, take a look." He accepted a small hand-mirror from Tina and held it out to the young man.

Still smiling in confusion, Sandburg accepted the mirror, and with it, the biggest shock of his life. One glance into the glass made his smile fade and his stomach turn cold.

A face stared up at him from the reflection, but it wasn't his. It was an older man, a man who had to be in his early forties. He had light brown hair with a little bit of a wave and a shock of silver falling forward over his forehead. Green-hazel eyes looked into his, filled with the same shock he felt. He reached for his face, and an unfamiliar hand appeared in the glass, touching a prominent nose that suggested the man who owned it had at least one Slavic ancestor.

Blair stumbled to his feet, dropping the mirror with a loud clatter.

"Blair, calm down." Al was instantly at his side, laying a comforting hand on the younger man's arm.

"Al, didja hafta scare him like that?" Tina pouted cutely.

"What happened to me?" the young anthropologist demanded.

"The man you see in that mirror," Al pointed to it. "That's Sam Beckett. As I explained to you, you've temporarily switched places, so that Sam can fix something that went wrong the first time May twenty-fourth of 1999 came around."

 _Something that went wrong...Oh, God._

"But he's too late," Blair whispered. "He's a day too late."


	5. Chapter 5

**Men's room  
Major Crimes Division  
Cascade PD**

"Sam?"

The physicist stopped pacing the floor to glare at his friend. "Where have you been?"

As usual, Al ignored him. "Geez, Sam, what is it with you and the men's room this Leap?" He wrinkled his nose in disgust. "It's bad enough when you drag me in here to talk."

"Well, since you neglected to tell me where I live, where else was I supposed to go?" Sam retorted.

"Oh." Al slapped the handlink. "852 Prospect, apartment 307. Sorry. But why are you in here, instead of in there?" He jerked a thumb in the direction of the bullpen.

"Because, frankly, Cascade's finest were behaving a little too immaturely for my taste." He fixed an impatient glare on the hologram. "Please tell me you have something."

"Well, we think we've figured out why you're here."

"Finally! What does Ziggy say?"

"That there's a fifty-six percent chance you're supposed to stop a Sid Graham from publishing Blair's doctoral thesis...and an eighty-four percent chance you're here to stop Captain Simon Banks and Inspector Megan Connor from getting shot by a man named Klaus Zeller."

* * *

"Al, that's incredible!" Sam exclaimed when the Observer had finished relating Blair's story to him. The same breathless excitement was in his voice that the Visitor's had contained when he'd been told about Project Quantum Leap.

Al smiled ruefully. "Yeah, well, according to Sandburg, it was only incredible when it was a secret. This unwanted publicity is destroying Ellison, and taking their friendship down with it. Not to mention Blair's got a deathly fear of the guy becoming some sort of government guinea pig, which is why it took so long to get him to talk to us."

"Sentinels," Sam breathed. "I've got to read that dissertation."

"You go right ahead. Just don't say anything about it to anyone. Oh, except Captain Banks and Inspector Connor. Apparently, they're in on the secret."

The Leaper nodded. "Do you think that's why they were shot?"

"Beats me, Kid."

"So, why does Ziggy think I'm primarily here to stop the shooting? Were they killed?"

Al shook his head. "No, they both ended up in the hospital for a while, but that's it. But he says from what he's got so far, it looks like Sandburg managed to fix the dissertation problem all right on his own."

Sam nodded. "All right. So what--"

He was interrupted by the ringing of Blair's cell phone.

* * *

Jim was passing the men's room when his ears were drawn automatically to the sound of Sandburg's voice coming from inside.

"Do you think that's why they were shot?"

The detective stopped and stared at the closed door. _What the hell?_ He focused his hearing more closely. For the moment, the younger man was silent, as if listening to someone, but all Jim could pick up on was some sort of bizarre static.

Then Blair spoke again. "So, why does Ziggy think I'm primarily here to stop the shooting? Were they killed?"

Another strange, static pause followed.

 _Ziggy? Who the hell is Ziggy? And what on earth is Sandburg rambling about?_

"All right. So what--"

The anthropologist's cell phone rang unexpectedly, causing the Sentinel to wince and clap his hands to his ears.

"Hello?"

"Blair, it's Sid again! You drive a hard bargain."

Jim stiffened.

"Sid, yeah. Look, I told you, I don't want to publish--"

"You're gonna turn down three million dollars?"

The Sentinel quickly dialed down his hearing. His stomach felt like it did after some of Naomi's concoctions. Pushing the hurt into the blacksmith's forge of his lingering anger, he turned deliberate steps away from the bathroom where Sandburg was negotiating a contract for the sale of his life.

* * *

Sam had been pleasantly surprised to discover that Inspector Megan Connor of New South Wales was a very good listener. She had willingly endured his frustrated monologue that seemed to be a mesh of his own concerns and some left over from the young man whose life he'd borrowed.

He'd poured out everything to her, from his frustration over Graham's refusal to take no for an answer, to an inexplicable conviction that he'd lost the trust of a man he'd never actually met. That part, he was certain, had to be Blair, even though it reminded him a little of the guilt he'd felt when he'd discovered what Al had given up to help him save Tom. Of course, even if Al had been there instead of trying to get more out of Ziggy, he couldn't have said that. Not with someone else around.

That made him wonder all the more that Ziggy didn't seem to think he was there to help the two men. If Jim and Blair were as close as he and Al...how could he just stand by and let that be destroyed?

Megan smiled sadly at him. "It's an extraordinary accomplishment...but I hate to see what it's doing to you and Jim. Look, Sandy, if you know you're doing what's right, then you can move on with a clear conscience. So can Jim."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. _But what's the right thing to do? And am I supposed to be the one to do it?_ "Yeah," he murmured.

She turned to go inside the building where Bartley, his people, and the rest of their team awaited them. The Leaper followed--at least until he had another chance to talk to Al, he wasn't letting Inspector Connor out of his sight.

They entered the room just as Ellison was leaving it. Sam let his eyes follow the other man, but continued in the direction he had been going.

"What are you doing?" the man he'd identified as Captain Banks glared at him. "Go with him, Sandburg."

Sam's mouth dropped open in surprise. "I...are you sure he wants me with him, Sir?"

"I need you with him. Help him focus. Now, go."

"Babe stays here though, right?" the other man in the room asked.

The Inspector smiled tightly. "I might shoot him myself."

With a grin, Sam turned and left the way he came.

Simon cast a confused glance in Megan's direction. "Connor, was I hallucinating a moment ago, or did Sandburg just call me 'Sir'?"


	6. Chapter 6

Sam had spotted Ellison in the crowd and had almost reached him when Al appeared right in front of him. The Leaper jumped a little in surprise and swore under his breath. "Don't _do_ that!" he hissed.

"Do what?" Jim demanded, turning to face him. The cold, hard look on his face was not comforting. "What are you doing, Sandburg?"

"Captain Banks sent me," Sam explained weakly. "He, uh, wants me to help you focus." This was with a pointed glance at the hologram.

"Oh, okay." Al started to punch at the handlink. "I'll get Ziggy to ask Blair what you should do."

 _"Captain Banks?" Now's a hell of a time to pull that one out of your ass, Sandburg, unless you're trying to make up for lost brownie points._ The detective's nostril's flared. "Fine."

 _You don't sound like it's fine,_ Sam thought, but he chose not to speak.

He didn't realize that choice only amplified Ellison's suspicions. Now he was suddenly being quiet without having to be asked? And there'd been that weird static again a moment ago...

"Ok, Blair says you should tell him to try to isolate sounds. Zeller isn't going to make this easy on them--"

Sam repeated the young man's instructions to Ellison.

"I know what to do, Chief, all right?" Jim snapped. "I know the drill. You don't have to quote me chapter and verse. Why don't you save that for your interviews?"

 _Damn. He's definitely not taking this well._ Sam sighed. _Well, at least he's calling me...er, Blair...by a nickname. That's a good sign...I hope._

"Sheesh, I'm glad the kid wasn't here to hear that," Al muttered.

Ellison started to wander away, scanning the crowd with his eyes and ears. Sam watched him go with another sigh.

Up on the stage, a man approached the podium. "Mr. Bartley will be out momentarily. He's finishing a phone call to the attorney general."

The Leaper continued watching Jim, who had reached up to remove the radio ear-piece. He paused, turning his head as if reacting to a sound, then pushed further into the crowd.

"Aw, hell!" Al swore as they suddenly noticed a group of reporters converging on the detective. "Sam, there's a ninety-six percent chance they won't catch Zeller if those reporters--"

The Leaper didn't wait to hear any more. He started barreling through the crowd. When he reached the enclave surrounding Jim, he started pulling the reporters away.

It was too late. A shot rang through the air and a glance up at Bartley's window revealed the man tumbling out of his chair.

Sam swore loudly. "Damn it, Al, why didn't you warn me sooner?!"

"Jack's been shot!" a voice shouted. "Get a paramedic in here!"

With an odd look in the Leaper's direction, Jim bounded up onto the platform and began to search the crowd once more with his eyes.

Sam swore again.

* * *

 **Waiting Room  
Back at the Project**

"Hey, how're you doing?" Al asked gently as he entered the room.

Blair set down the book he'd been reading and ran one hand through his dark curls. "I don't know. Between this...swiss-cheese thing you told me about and worrying about Jim..." He lifted disturbed eyes to the Admiral. "Are you sure Sam can fix this?"

"Yeah, I'm sure," Al replied with quiet confidence. "Sam's been doing this for a pretty long time."

"Maybe it would be better if he didn't," Blair confessed. "I mean, man, if I screwed up this badly, maybe Jim would be better off without me."

"Hey, Kid, you're not the one that screwed up. And I'll tell you something. Ziggy doesn't even think Sam's there to straighten out this business with your dissertation. He thinks you did a good enough job of that on your own."

"Really? Then why is he there?"

"He's there because this guy Zeller is gonna take a shot at your Captain and this Inspector Connor."

Blair turned white and Al held up a comforting hand. "Don't worry--forewarned is forearmed, remember?"

The kid nodded and Al studied him. "Ellison really means a lot to you, doesn't he?"

Blair nodded. "Yeah. I mean, I know he's not old enough to be my father, but he's the closest thing I have. Or more like a big brother, I guess."

The Observer nodded, thinking of the absent genius who'd always been like a younger brother or a son to him. _I hear you, Kid._ "Your dad wasn't around much?"

"Hell, I don't even know who he is," Blair admitted. "All Naomi ever said was that there was a list of candidates. Let's just say I met one of them...and I sure hope it's not him."

 _Damn. No wonder the kid's so devastated by this._

"I know where you're coming from," he sympathized. "I grew up in an orphanage."

"You did?"

"Yeah. My mom ran off with an encyclopedia salesman when I was just a kid. My sister had Down's Syndrome and Dad couldn't take care of us, so he placed us in a home. A few years later, he died of cancer."

"What happened to your sister?" Blair asked gently.

"She was sent to a mental hospital. She died there of pneumonia when she was sixteen."

"Man."

"That's why I went into the Naval Academy as soon as I turned eighteen. That was my family."

Blair nodded. "Sounds kind of like Jim. His dad went a little overboard on the sibling rivalry thing--he pitted his sons against each other so much that it took them until a couple of years ago to have any sort of a relationship. Plus, Jim's dad made fun of him because of his senses...I guess Jim was looking for a better family than the one he had."

"Most of us do, Kid," Al agreed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Back in Cascade**

"I like the kid, Sam," the hologram admitted. They were in Blair's car en route to some place named Gunderson Shipping. Al had been telling Sam about his latest conversation with the young man. "I like him a lot. I even--hell, I even find myself wishing I were his father, though I know it's impossible."

"Impossible?" Sam asked curiously.

Al nodded. "Yeah. The kid was born after I married Beth, and while I was in 'Nam. Plus, I have yet to ever meet Naomi. All things considered, it would be pretty difficult for him to be mine. But I swear, Sandburg's like an amalgamation of you and me--your brains and my gift with women." The hologram smirked. "You should have seen Tina swoon over him--good thing Gooshie wasn't there."

Sam laughed. "Just don't tell me he can get Ziggy to cooperate, or I might be tempted to keep him there."

The Observer's face sobered immediately. "Don't even joke about that, Sam. As much as I like Blair...hell, I'd take getting you home any day."

Sam smiled gratefully. "So, what did Blair do about his dissertation anyway?"

"Apparently he called a press conference and declared himself a fraud. Damn, the kid has guts."

"He turned down a chance at a Nobel Prize? God, Al, I don't think I would have that kind of courage."

"Yeah, you would," the Observer replied with quiet confidence, remembering two separate occasions when Sam had made a far greater sacrifice for him. "If you had to choose between a Nobel Prize and someone you cared about, you would do it in a second. You and the kid have a lot in common that way."

Sam studied his friend. _Do I, Al? Or are you just seeing me reflected in the mirror of who you are?_

* * *

"These Gunderson files are going to take days to go through," Megan expressed the thought that had been dancing through Sam's mind almost since the moment he'd arrived. She looked at the man she thought was Blair, then at Jim, then added pointedly, "Although things might move more quickly if you two would speak to each other."

 _Thank you for that glaringly obvious observation,_ Sam thought with a silent, sarcastic sigh. _Any suggestions for *how* to get Detective Ellison to speak to me would be nice._

Jim's reply answered both of them. "There's nothing to say, Connor."

"Sandy didn't do this on purpose," Megan pointed out.

"Oh, no?" Jim glared at the Leaper. "Hey, Chief, let me ask you something. How did you intend to protect my identity and still keep your research valid?"

"I don't know," Sam answered honestly.

"Ah!" the Detective pounced on that confession. "You don't know. That's a good answer, Chief. You couldn't have. You knew that and went ahead and wrote it down anyway."

There was no answer. Jim turned to stare at him and Sam swore wordlessly. _Oh damn. I did something out of character. What would Blair have done?_

Since he didn't know, he just maintained a stubborn silence. After a moment, Ellison shook his head and turned away. A moment later, he straightened up suddenly as if something had caught his eye.

 _Something probably did,_ Sam acknowledged. "What is it?" he heard himself ask, curious in spite of everything.

"Connor, we got a 211 in progress."

Followed closely by the Australian, Jim hurried across the street. Sam started to follow, then had second thoughts and dropped to the pavement with a sigh, balancing his forehead on his knees.

* * *

The only sound in the loft for hours had been Naomi's voice. Jim refused to speak and all Sam's efforts had been brusquely deflected. The time traveler felt a little sorry for Blair's mother, who seemed to be doing everything she could to undo the damage wrought. He sipped at the tea she had just given him and watched as she handed Jim a mug of the same steaming blend.

"Didn't surprise me to learn, Jim, that you had this...gift. I always sensed a special energy about you."

Jim accepted the tea and the compliment with a stiff nod. "Very kind, Naomi. Thank you."

"I'm just...terribly sorry at how all this has...turned out, especially when I see what's happened to you two."

"Naomi, I know you were just trying to help Blair."

Sam set down his own mug almost hard enough to break it. _He can forgive Naomi, who got the damned ball rolling in the first place, but he's shutting out his best friend over this?_

Before he could say anything, though, Naomi babbled on with a worried glance at him. "You two, listen to me. You cannot let this tear apart your friendship."

 _You hear that?_ Sam directed upwards with a pleading glance.

"Thank you." Jim handed the mug back to her. "Things happen, Naomi, you know? People change. You just got to go with it. This whole Sentinel thing has just gotten too out of hand. I can't take this attention. That's not me. I just want to go back to the way things were."

"You want to quit." The physicist's voice was quiet, sympathetic.

The detective's attention remained focused on Naomi, even as he flinched at the other man's choice of words. "Yeah...I guess so."

Sam found himself pondering the roles the detective and anthropologist had assumed. Ellison was a reluctant hero, caught by a choice he made long ago. Sandburg was his lifeline, the one person inside his secret world, the person who made that world sane. Those were roles he could identify with, having played both with Al. But now, those roles had been shattered, and if something didn't happen soon to reverse it, the men themselves would probably follow.

The Leaper considered his next words very carefully. He knew that "I know how you feel" was the worst possible choice right now. Jim needed to believe that Blair was where he wanted to be, not a man as trapped as him in a life he had never asked for. Especially since that wouldn't be Blair speaking, but rather Sam Beckett.

"Would you really rather spend the rest of your life pretending to be someone you're not?" was the quiet reply he settled on.

The detective spun to face him, his face still ablaze with hurt and anger. "Someone I'm not? Well, you tell me who I *am,* then 'cause I have no idea. At one point, I had a reputation of being a pretty decent cop. Now, people look at me and they...they perceive me as some goofball comic book character."

"You're a man who feels like he's lost control of his life," Sam answered immediately, interrupting the detective's tirade.

Jim paused halfway to the loft door. "I don't just feel that way, Sandburg," he admitted without looking back. "I have lost control."

"So we'll get it back," the Leaper promised.

"That's what I'm talking about. Getting it back."

"Throwing your Sentinel abilities away isn't going to give you back your control," the other man argued. "It's letting the attention and the media and Sid Graham control your life, not you."

"You have a better idea?"

"No," Sam admitted. "Not yet. But I will, I promise."

Jim shook his head. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Chief. If I ever want to go back to being a good cop and live a simple life, it ain't going to happen this way. Your research is done. Why don't you just let it go? Thanks for the tea."

The door closing behind him made a very final sound.


	8. Chapter 8

**At the Precinct**

Sam stared bleakly at the elevator doors, his eyes drifting upwards only as each floor of the building crawled by like a lazy turtle. If Ziggy was right, within a few more minutes he would Leap, provided he succeeded in preventing the shooting.

He frowned. _But if I do Leap after that...what's going to happen to Jim and Blair?_

"It's your choice, Sam." The physicist jumped at the sound of the voice, spinning around to face the hologram who had suddenly appeared in the elevator cab. Al continued, gesturing towards the elevator doors with his cigar. "But do you really want to let Banks and Connor get shot? That's the only way you could guarantee that you'll still be here."

"How did you--?"

"Come on, Sam, I know that look."

The Leaper smiled. "I'm that obvious, huh?"

"You wear your heart on your sleeve--you always have. But that's OK. That's what makes you so great at what you do."

Sam sighed, running one hand through his short, honey-brown hair. "I don't know, Al. I just...I just don't feel right leaving something undone."

"You won't be," Al promised him. "If God or fate or whatever decides to Leap you outta here after you stop the shooting, that means you are done. Remember, Ziggy said Blair did a pretty good job with the dissertation thing himself. He and Ellison are pretty close--I think they can survive this."

 _They can survive this..._ Just then the doors dinged open, and Sam emerged into the Major Crimes bullpen, his decision made. "How much time do I have?" he asked.

With a knowing smile, the Admiral slapped the fluorescent Lego collection in his hands. "Ah...about six minutes and twenty-two seconds. How exactly are you planning to handle this?"

Sam smiled. "Trust me."

Al's eyes narrowed. "Why does that phrase make me more nervous?"

The Leaper ignored him. "Megan, are you busy?" he asked as he approached the Inspector.

Connor smiled brightly. "Depends on what the alternative is. What can I do for you, Sandy?"

"I missed lunch today, but I really need to talk to the Captain. Could you run down to the break room and get me a sandwich out of the machine?"

"Good thinking, Sam," Al remarked in approval.

Megan nodded. "Sure." He pulled a worn five-dollar bill from his pocket and extended it to her. She pushed his hand away. "Don't worry about it. The last thing you need right now is to be thinking about money."

Al whistled appreciatively as Connor disappeared towards the elevator. "Whaddya know, the nozzle was right. She is a babe."

"Al..." Only Sam could draw out his friend's name into quite that many exasperated syllables.

The Observer looked at him innocently. "What?"

* * *

"Oh, sir, no. There was never any intention of keeping this from you. I was merely...That's right. A full report on your desk tomorrow morning. I'd just like to say that...Right." Simon hung up the phone and looked bleakly over at his detective. "That was our boss. Thinks I kept the Sentinel thing a secret."

Jim shrugged. "Well, Captain, in actuality, you did."

The captain glared at him. "You're not helping."

"Yes, sir."

There was an insistent rap on the door before Simon could voice his next troubled thought. "Come in," he called brusquely.

"Captain, can I talk to you for a moment?" came from the man in the doorway.

"Not now, Sandburg."

"I'm sorry, Sir, but it's urgent."

The captain sighed with a look at Jim. "Fine. But make it fast, I've got a report to write."

Sam stepped into the office and closed the door behind him.

"Aw, hell, Sam. I don't know what you did, but now Ziggy's saying there's a sixty-two percent chance Ellison gets shot too."

The Leaper spun towards his friend, startled. "What?!"

Jim Ellison narrowed his eyes at the other man. _What the hell? What is he doing and what **is** that static?_

"Apparently the bullet was intended for him. It hit Banks and Connor instead because Ellison had bent over to look at something--"

Sam swore. _And now, because of me, he's standing right in its path._

"Sandburg, _what_ did you need to tell me so urgently?" Simon's impatient voice intruded on the physicist's panicked thoughts.

"Just, ah--"

"Fifteen seconds, Sam!"

"Get down!" Sam shouted, and threw himself at Jim.

The two men tumbled to the ground. Simon followed, startled by the vehemence of the command. Half a heartbeat later, the captain's window exploded, then the glass between his office and the room outside. A bullet imbedded itself in the door frame of the bullpen.

Rolling away from Ellison, Dr. Sam Beckett stared for a moment at the ceiling of the office, before letting his eyes drift closed in relief.

Jim grabbed his arm. "Sandburg, how the hell did you know about that shooter when I didn't?"

Sam's temper flared, although he was never sure afterwards if it was really him or some of Blair's neurons. The physicist tore himself out of the detective's grasp and sat up. "I don't know, Jim," he snapped. "Maybe you got your wish. Maybe you're back to being just a 'normal' cop."

* * *

A moment later, the elevator doors parted and Megan stepped into the bullpen. "Oh my God!" she exclaimed at the melee that greeted her. "What happened?"

The room was packed with officers from what looked like every division in the Cascade Police Department. Uniforms and plainclothesmen filtered in and out of Simon's office, which was the apparent recipient of an unexpected new ventilation system.

Joel Taggart smiled shakily at her. "You missed all the excitement, Connor. Zeller took a shot at Jim and Simon. If it weren't for Sandburg, he might have succeeded."

The Inspector let her gaze wander to where a small group was using a tape measure to track the bullet's trajectory. A shiver ran through her as she noticed the path went straight over her desk.

"What did he do?" she asked.

"He tackled Jim and yelled for Simon to get down." Taggart shook his head in amazement. "Damned if I know how he knew. If it weren't for the fact that Jim's the one who usually does that, I woulda sworn the kid's paper was on the wrong guy."

Frowning, Megan shook her head. "No...look at the trajectory. If I'd been at my desk, or anywhere near it--"

The older man did so. "You might have been hit too."

She nodded. "Sandy sent me down to the break room a minute ago to get him a sandwich out of the vending machine."

"But there isn't a sandwich machine in the break room--"

"Yeah. I noticed that when I got down there."

Joel's eyes widened as the significance of her words suddenly registered. "Whoah."

* * *

"Simon, I swear Sandburg knew this was going to happen hours ago. I heard him talking to someone in the men's room earlier, and he distinctly said 'Do you think that's why they were shot?'"

"'Were' doesn't sound like a premonition to me," was the captain's skeptical response. "And who was he talking to anyway, that he would discuss something like that with?"

"Well, I would have sworn he was talking to himself if it weren't for that weird static--"

"Static?" Simon looked suddenly alarmed. "Like those white noise generators Brackett used on you?"

Jim shook his head. "No, _this_ I noticed. It was like...I don't know how to put this, Simon, but it's like it wasn't really a sound."

Banks shrugged with a sigh. "I still don't see how this is proof that Sandburg's suddenly psychic."

"How about the fact that Sandy sent me on an errand literally minutes before that shot was fired?" Megan Connor contributed to the conversation as she reached the two men. The Inspector folded her arms across her chest and cast a thoughtful glance in Blair's direction.

"What does that have to do with anything?" Simon was beginning to sound exasperated, not to mention confused.

"I checked the trajectory, Captain. If that bullet was titanium like the one Zeller used before, there's a damn good chance it would have gone through me too, if I'd been at my desk."

"There, you see?" the detective pounced.

The captain groaned. "Great. What is this, some new aspect of this Sentinel business? Blair got his own spirit guide, now he gets his own special powers?"

Jim's eyes turned arctic. "I wouldn't know, Simon. I'm through with 'this Sentinel business,' remember?"

"Oh, Jim," Megan whispered with a trace of reproach.

 _Aw, hell._ Simon closed his eyes and took a deep breath. _In all the excitement, I forgot about that damned dissertation._ "Frankly, I don't care how Sandburg did whatever it turns out he did. He saved your life, Jim. And mine. I think that says a hell of a lot more than any paper. Especially since what it says is something you already know."

Connor nodded. "I'll second that."

The detective turned hesitantly to look at "Blair," who was still standing across the room. His blue eyes thawed a bit and the tight line of his jaw relaxed just a little. A twinge of regret twisted in his stomach. _He saved your life...just like he did the day you met. And countless times since then._

Megan gave him a light pat on the arm and turned away. She crossed the bullpen to where Sam was sitting and struck up a conversation. After a moment, Simon followed, leaving Jim alone with his thoughts.


	9. Chapter 9

**Major Crimes Bullpen  
Cascade PD**

"I'm still here, Al."

The Observer nodded. "I noticed," he remarked wryly.

Connor's voice interrupted before the Leaper could respond. "Well, Sandy, it looks like I owe you one."

"Re-really?" Sam stammered, blinking upwards from where he was sitting into Megan's dancing eyes. Behind him, Al let out another low, appreciative whistle and the Leaper fought the temptation to try to slug the hologram. "Uh...one what?"

She shrugged, balancing herself on the edge of a desk. "Oh, just one sandwich errand that takes you out of the path of a bullet."

The physicist allowed himself a sheepish, self-deprecating smile. "I guess that was pretty good timing, wasn't it?"

"So that's all it was, eh? Good timing?" Megan graced him with a mischievous smirk. "I thought maybe that spirit guide of yours warned you."

Sam quirked an eyebrow at his incorporeal companion. "I guess you could say that," he conceded with a grin that Al returned.

"Spirit guide, huh? That's a new one. At least you didn't call me your dog this time."

"Sandburg," Simon barked as he reached them. His face and voice were stern, but his eyes were dancing. "You ever yell at me like that in a non-life-threatening situation and you'll be doing the paperwork for the entire department, you hear me?"

Sam stifled a grin. "Yes, sir."

The taller man's face softened. "How are you doing?"

Sam sighed with a glance over at Jim, who was still watching him thoughtfully. _What do you want to bet he's hearing every word of this conversation?_ Megan's and Simon's eyes both followed his.

"I'm OK...I guess."

The captain laid a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. "If there's anything I can do..."

Sam nodded. "I'll let you know. Look, uh...I'm going to head home, if that's OK. I'll...see you guys later, I guess?"

Megan smiled. "Count on it, Sandy."

With a parting hug from the Inspector, he turned to leave. He was almost to the elevator when a hand fell on his arm.

"Sandburg, I..."

Sam looked back into Jim's blue gaze, which was slightly warmer than it had been since he Leaped in.

The detective shrugged, looking a little abashed. He flashed the other man a weak smile. "Thanks."

 _"I think they can survive this,"_ Al's words came back to him. Sam smiled as well, relieved. _Yeah, maybe they can._

"Any time, Jim."

*****

"...Ellison gets his privacy back, and the Police Department offers Blair a permanent position as a detective to keep him around."

Dr. Sam Beckett frowned at his Observer. "It sounds to me like Ziggy was right after all--everything turned out all right the first time."

Al nodded, grimacing. "Yeah, but that's not the end. This thing is so close, Ziggy forgot to check beyond the events immediately following the press conference. When he went back over the last few months...well, it turns out the kid really wasn't cut out for police work--at least, not official police work. He learns how to use a gun, but he never picks up the habit of carrying it, and six months down the line..."

Here the Observer paused, his expression deeply shaken by the potential fate of the young Visitor. "He gets killed in a robbery he probably could have prevented if he'd had his weapon on him."

"I'm sorry, Al," Sam whispered.

Al nodded but pressed on. "Ellison never gets over his partner's death. He loses control over his senses and ends up committed to a mental hospital. Major Crimes suffers too, for daring to accept a confessed fraud into their ranks. Simon gets a dishonorable discharge from the force, Taggart and a couple of the other guys get demoted, Connor is recalled to New South Wales, and the division is currently going through a reorganization that is almost guaranteed to make it much less effective."

The Leaper let out a deep sigh and ran one frustrated hand through his hair. "Ok, but what still I don't understand is if I'm here to prevent Blair from having to declare himself a fraud to protect his partner, why didn't I just Leap in before the manuscript got publicized in the first place?"

"Got me, Kid." Al smacked the handlink, studied it for a moment, then shrugged. "Huh. Ziggy says there's a seventy-five percent chance you're supposed to see that the paper _does_ get published, only without putting either Sandburg or Ellison in danger."

"What?! How is that possible? You said in the original history the reporters only backed off after Blair denounced the paper as fiction--!" The physicist stopped himself suddenly mid-rant, an amazed look coming over his face. "Al, that's it!"

* * *

 **Back at the Project**

"So, what happened?" Blair demanded of the older man as soon as Al stepped through the door into the Waiting Room. "Did Sam stop Zeller from shooting Simon and Megan?"

The Observer looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, yeah he did. They're going to be fine."

"That's great!" Sandburg grinned. The euphoria was momentary, though. His smile faded as he realized what was missing from that success. "But I'm still here. Which means Sam's still there. Why?"

Al closed his eyes. _Aw, hell. After all the assurances I gave him about his dissertation, how am I supposed to tell him that _is_ the problem?_

He didn't need to. Blair heard the answer in his silence.

"So, he is there to fix my mistake," the young man deduced quietly. He looked devastated.

The Admiral sighed. "Blair...can I tell you a story?"

The anthropologist shrugged. "Sure," he replied, forcing himself to sound casual. "I don't have anything better to do."

The older man took a seat beside the younger one and looked him straight in the eyes. Brown studied blue, assessing the damage Sandburg had inflicted on himself with his guilt.

"We have a rule, here, at Project Quantum Leap. No matter how much we want to, we can't change our own past. Now, that's not always a rule we've kept, but it exists for a very good reason. A reason that I learned the hard way when I made a very big mistake. You see, Sam had leaped into a cop in San Diego in 1969--the year my first wife left me while I was MIA in Vietnam."

Blair let out a little gasp of sympathy. "Oh, man, I'm sorry."

Al nodded, his eyes black with the memory. "I came home to an empty house. It hurt like hell and I never forgot that pain. So, when I found out Sam was in the same city as her, only months before she left me...I told him he was there to keep the wife of a missing soldier from giving him up for dead and remarrying."

"Your wife," the young man deduced.

The Admiral nodded again. "Yeah, my wife. Which Sam would have known the minute I said anything if not for the fact that this time travel business pokes holes in his mind like a confetti puncher. A fact I knew and took advantage of."

"What happened?" Blair asked.

"Sam trusted me. He listened to me, and he did everything he could to keep her from giving up on her missing husband. Then one day he was over at her house and he saw a picture of me on the mantel. And he knew I'd lied to him."

"Ouch."

"He knew that I'd betrayed his trust and tried to break one of our most important rules. He told me he couldn't do what I wanted him to do, and demanded that I ask Ziggy why he was really there. It turned out he wasn't there for me at all, but to save this cop's partner from walking into a trap and getting killed."

The young anthropologist sucked his breath in sharply.

Al watched him with a knowing eye. _He may not be a cop, but he sure as hell knows what it means to have a partner._

"Thankfully, Sam got there in time," the Observer continued. "But I still felt like hell. I let him down. He's my best friend; I'm the only way he has of finding out what he's supposed to do wherever--whenever--he is, and I used that to manipulate him. I betrayed his trust in the worst possible way I could, and almost left him stranded in the past because of it. I wouldn't have blamed him if he'd ordered me off the Project and replaced me with an Observer he knew could trust."

"Damn," Blair murmured, shaken. As Al had hoped, the story was hitting close to home.

"But you know what, Kid?"

Blue eyes rose again to meet his with a trace of hope.

"Sam didn't do that. Yeah, when he first found out he was pretty angry. He even told me that if I left at that moment, I didn't need to bother coming back. But after it was over, when we'd both had a chance to calm down and look at the situation rationally...he forgave me. Even though he wasn't supposed to get Beth back for me, he did give me something I didn't have thirty years ago--a chance to say goodbye to her." _A chance to touch her...though God only knows how that miracle was pulled off._

"Beth?" Sandburg sounded confused. "But isn't that the woman--"

Al smiled. "That's the surprise twist ending. Three years later, Sam gave up the one thing he wanted most--a chance to come home--to go back and do what he couldn't do then. He held onto Beth for me, until I could come home for her. He gave me the life I always wanted thirty years after it was too late."

"That's...wow, that's incredible."

"Yeah, it is." _Even though I could kill him for making that choice._ "But that's what friends do, Kid. That's what you were willing to do for Jim by deep-sixing your dissertation, and believe it or not, he'd do the same for you. No matter how badly you think you've screwed up, if you just hold on and fight for it until the hurt is past, the friendship will survive."

"Thank you," Blair whispered.

"There's one other thing--don't forget you're both only human. None of us are perfect, not me, not you, not Sam, not even Jim."

The younger man chuckled. "Don't I know it."

"So don't put him on a pedestal, and don't hold yourself up to an impossible standard. Let him be human, let yourself be human." Al smirked. "And if you have any trouble knocking some sense into that partner of yours, give me a call. He may be in the wrong branch of the service, but I can still pull rank."

Blair grinned brightly. "Thanks, Al."


	10. Chapter 10

**The loft**

Sam finished the final page of Blair's thesis and sighed deeply. On his other knee was a pad of paper, where he'd begun jotting down the idea he'd had.

 _Ziggy's right--this paper does deserve to be published. It's good. And it's not right that he should be forced to choose between the recognition he deserves and the friend he'd give his life to protect._ An image of Al flashed into Sam's mind and he shuddered. He didn't even want to think what it would be like to have to make that kind of choice.

 _"If you had to choose between a Nobel Prize and someone you cared about,"_ the Observer's words echoed in his thoughts. _"You would do it in a second. You and the kid have a lot in common that way."_

He realized how lucky he'd been with his own doctoral work, especially in physics. Even though his string theory was every bit as sensational as Blair's sentinel research, it couldn't hurt anyone. Until the day he'd decided to put that theory to the ultimate test, it hadn't touched anyone's life but his and maybe Al's. And now that it affected so many more...well, he had to admit it was for the better, as much as he wanted to give it all up and go home.

A hand fell on his shoulder. "Will you ever forgive me for making such a mess of things?"

Sam looked up at the sound of Naomi's voice and forced a hesitant smile. "Yeah. Yeah, it's okay...Mom." Reaching out one hand, he patted hers. "We're...we're all going to be fine."

She sighed. "Do you still love me even with all this?"

The physicist blinked, startled. Was Naomi Sandburg really so insecure in her relationship with her son? Setting down both the dissertation and the pad, he stood and smiled warmly at her. "Mom, come on. You know me better than that."

He held his arms out to her and she stepped into his embrace with a grateful smile. _Which one's the parent and which one's the child, here?_ Sam wondered ruefully.

Naomi sighed again. "I'm sorry."

"Of course I love you," Sam promised in a sincere, quiet voice. "Would you stop loving me because of one little mistake?"

"Oh, honey, of course not."

"So why should I do that to you? We were all doing what we thought was right. Right? Maybe this happened for a reason. Maybe there's something we're all supposed to learn from it. And I think I know what."

"And what's that, Blair?"

He released her with a comforting squeeze of the shoulder. "Why don't you go call Sid, and I'll tell you both at the same time?"

Naomi nodded. "Okay, sweetie."

* * *

 **Back at the Project**

"Look, Kid..." Al took a deep breath before proceeding. "If you remember anything once we send you back...look me up sometime. Let me know how you're getting along."

Blair smiled a bright, genuine smile that the older man fervently hoped his best friend would be able to preserve. "Thanks. I really appreciate that."

"Just one thing--"

"Yeah?"

The man who had once been a father's nightmare now shook a fatherly finger at the young anthropologist. "You lay a finger on one of my girls, and even your friend Ellison won't be able to count the number of stitches you need. You hear me?"

"Whoah, man, chill," Blair laughed. "I promise, okay?"

Al chuckled in return. "Don't you know it's a father's duty to protect his daughters from young men who remind him of his own misspent youth?"

"I'll remember that if I ever have kids," the anthropologist joked. He paused thoughtfully. "Al, do I--?"

The Observer shrugged. "Hell if I know. You're only a year behind us here, remember?"

The Visitor nodded. "A year behind...wait, that means you won't know me for a year."

"Once you get back to your own time, yeah. I won't."

"That sucks. I was really looking forward to taking you up on that offer."

Al chuckled. "Hell, do it anyway. Tell me I said for you to look me up--I shouldn't have too much trouble figuring out the rest."

* * *

The room was packed with reporters by the time Sam came in. The Leaper took another deep, quaking breath.

"Don't sweat it, Sam, you'll do fine," Al reassured his friend's unspoken concern. "You were nervous as hell when you accepted the Nobel Prize, but once you got up there, there wasn't a person in that room who woulda known it. Except me." The hologram smirked.

Sam smiled. "Thanks, Al," he whispered softly, just as someone gestured for him to approach the podium. He did so, shuffling the notes he didn't really need and leaning forward into the mike.

"Hi. Thank you all for coming. I just have a short speech prepared here. Um... In our media-informed culture, a scientist receives validation by having his or her work published and after years of research there is great personal satisfaction when that goal is reached. However, there's been a serious mistake, for which I accept full responsibility. The paper which was released to you is *not* my dissertation."

Sam took another deep breath and let it out before plunging ahead.

"In all my years of research into the history and legends surrounding the concept of Sentinels, I was never able to find a test subject, a modern-day Sentinel whose abilities I would be able to observe first-hand. So, I changed the subject of my doctoral thesis to a study of the anthropological sub-culture of law enforcement. In order to research this new dissertation, I was assigned as an observer to the Cascade Police Department, and as an unofficial partner to Detective James Ellison.

"In Detective Ellison, I found all the traits that would make a good Sentinel--a strong sense of honor, a commitment to protecting the innocent--except for the heightened senses. Since I had never quite dealt with the necessity of abandoning my original thesis, I began to imagine how that paper would have taken shape if I had found a Sentinel."

Sam lifted his eyes to look directly into the camera, hoping Blair's partner was watching somewhere. "The manuscript you have been led to believe is my thesis, 'The Sentinel,' is actually the first draft of a novel. The central character is not Jim Ellison but a fictional amalgamation of my work with him and my Sentinel research. However, having very little experience in writing fiction, I chose to name the characters after the real people who had inspired them until I could think of something better. I apologize for the misunderstanding. My only hope is that I can be forgiven for the pain I've caused those that are close to me. Thank you."

"Sam, you did it!" Al crowed. "It takes a little work on Blair's part, but he not only convinces the press that his thesis _is_ a novel, he actually rewrites it _as_ a novel and it becomes an instant bestseller. And get this--" The hologram grinned. "He changes Jim's name in the book to Sam."

Smiling broadly, Dr. Sam Beckett stepped down from the podium, out of the room, and out of Blair Sandburg's life in a flash of light.

* * *

Back in the Major Crimes division of the Cascade Police Department, a group of officers sat in stunned silence before the television, absorbing the words they'd just heard.

When the eerie quiet showed no signs of ending, Captain Simon Banks shook his head and spoke in a voice too low for anyone but Jim to hear: "Damn. I always knew the kid was good at obfuscation, but that beats everything I've ever heard come out of his mouth."

A very pensive Jim Ellison nodded. _And he saved my neck. Again._ He stood. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen...I need to go see a man about a book."

* * *

 **The loft  
A little while later**

Blair stared at the notebook where it lay in front of him on the dining room table. The first page, which he had folded under, contained the speech he had given at the press conference. Part of him still marveled at the words that had come out of his own mouth. What on earth had given him the idea to call his dissertation "the first draft of a novel"?

Of course, it wasn't a bad idea. In fact, it was probably a much better idea than what he'd briefly considered doing, which was to denounce the paper as academic fraud.

 _Now I just have to figure out how to make people believe it,_ he decided. That was why he was staring down at a blank piece of paper, with his hands clenched and a firm set to his jaw. If there had been a mirror anywhere in the vicinity of the table, he probably would have laughed at how reminiscent the unconscious mannerism was of Jim at his most determined.

His right hand fiddled with a pen, bringing it up to his mouth to uncap it. With the cap still clamped between his teeth, he brought the ballpoint back to the paper and scratched out a first line:

"Draft Dr. Lake as a co-conspirator."

That was an absolute necessity, he decided as he removed the cap from his mouth with his left hand. Dr. Lake had seen the early chapters of the dissertation, and was the one person who could blow this plan to hell if he wanted to. Thankfully, Blair was certain that his thesis advisor could be trusted.

Pursing his lips, he let out a low, almost whistling breath and stared at the page again. A few moments of thought later, he scribbled down another "to do" item:

"Figure out fictional names for Jim, me, Simon, Megan, Joel, Rafe, Brown, etc..."

On impulse, he brought the pen down to the next line and wrote under Jim's name, "Sam."

 _Sam? Where'd that come from?_ Frowning, Blair reached up to draw a line through the name, but paused. _Actually...that would work. It sounds a little bit like 'Jim,' has some of the same vocal nuances..._

Figuring out a fictional name for himself would be harder. He'd have to be careful not to choose something that might invite teasing from the guys in Major Crimes. Not that any of them were probably students of Etymology or Onomastics, but on the off chance that someone might know if a name sounded particularly self-aggrandizing--

"Hey. Thought I might find you here." Jim circled the table slowly and seated himself in a chair opposite the younger man. The smile he offered him was subdued, but not forced or angry or hurt, as most of their interaction lately had been.

Blair looked up at his partner, a little sheepishly. "Yeah, um...I didn't know where else to go. If you want, I can--" he gestured towards the door.

"No, I don't want you to leave." Ellison's hand somehow found its way to Sandburg's forearm, where it fastened with a firm but gentle grip. When he could tell that the younger man was going to acquiesce and stay put, the detective loosened that hold just a little.

He looked Blair straight in the eyes, his own eyes just as subdued as his smile. "I saw your press conference."

"Oh, yeah, you saw it?" the anthropologist repeated lamely. Wow, if his press conference had inspired this reaction, what would Jim have done if he'd gone with the fraud idea? He suppressed a shiver and shrugged. "It's just a book."

"It was your life."

"And I've still got it," Blair pointed out. "Albeit in a slightly altered form."

Jim inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment, and the younger man continued. "But this way...this way I don't have to choose between your life and mine. Like I said, this isn't just about a research project anymore. It hasn't been almost since the beginning. It's been about friendship, and that's what I don't want to lose. The dissertation I can live without, hell, even the doctorate if the University won't let me start over."

There was a long pause as the detective regarded his friend. "You really think this'll work?" he asked hopefully.

"I'll make it work," Sandburg promised. "Besides, uh...I mean, where I get off following you around for three years pretending I was a cop, right?"

"You might have been just an observer, but you were the best cop I've ever met and the best partner I could have ever asked for. You've been a great friend and you've pulled me through some pretty weird stuff."

An Observer...Blair smiled, not knowing why he now capitalized the word in his mind. "Thanks." His fingers tightened around the notepad. "Jim...I know I used to joke about it...about my paper. Like that stupid remark I made once about movie rights when you were in the hospital. If anything I said ever led you to believe I would do something like that to you, expose you like that...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

The detective frowned, thoughtfully. "I don't know. Maybe it did. But I seem to recall you also saying once that you had enough material for ten dissertations, but you were stalling on finishing it because you wanted to stick around." He smiled again. "I think I'm the one who made the mistake here, Chief. I assumed the worst when everything I know about you should have told me otherwise."

Sandburg nodded, relieved.

His smile warming a little, Jim patted his partner's arm. "So, are you ready to get back to work?"

A delicious shock ran through the younger man at those words. His own smile broadened as he flipped the notebook closed and lifted it to stuff in a deep flannel pocket.

"Hey, man, I thought you'd never ask!"

Chuckling, the Sentinel rose from his place at the table and crossed to the door.

 _"No matter how badly you think you've screwed up, if you just hold on and fight for it until the hurt is past, the friendship will survive."_ Blair shook his head, bewildered by the memory. Especially since he couldn't recall who'd spoken those words to him.

Jim turned back in the doorway, his voice light. "You coming or not, Chief?"

Oh well. It didn't really matter who had said it. All that mattered was that the words were proving true. He grinned into the once-again-friendly blue gaze of his roommate.

"Right behind you, partner."


End file.
